Learning about native species and healthy landscapes in Kanha Shanti Vanam, India

The definition of a forest has never stayed the same. Many of us grew up learning about forests through stories from parents and grandparents who spoke about shade, birds, small streams and the comfort of trees during summer afternoons. Nature was something you felt before you learned to name it. 

Today, many children speak about forests through terms from textbooks, using words that explain ecosystems even if they haven’t experienced spending time in them. Somewhere between memory and curriculum, our relationship with nature has grown thinner, more distant and sometimes more decorative.

This changes the way we judge landscapes. We have begun to equate beauty with health. A plant that grows fast becomes a good plant. A tree with bright flowers becomes a healthy one. A forest that looks green becomes a thriving one. 

We forget to ask who belongs on that land, who feeds the soil, who shelters birds and who slowly pushes everything else out? These misunderstandings do not arise because children lack awareness, but because we rarely create spaces where children can question what they see. Students need the space to connect what they learn to their families stories and community wisdom.

But this disconnect is not permanent. Children understand far more than we assume once we offer them the space to observe, reflect and share. Knowing this, we spent a day with 50 students at Kanha Shanti Vanam in Telangana exploring forests, landscapes and restoration in a way that encouraged curiosity over instruction. 

Kanha Shanti Vanam, spread across over a thousand acres near Hyderabad, is a long-term restored ecological landscape that has been transformed from dry, degraded land into a thriving green space through sustained plantation, biodiversity conservation, soil regeneration and water stewardship. 

Originally dry and largely barren, the site has been transformed through long-term ecological restoration into a green oasis with over 800,000 trees of diverse species and extensive planting activity that recognizes the importance of native, endemic and endangered flora. 

This was not a workshop to teach students what nature is. It was a space to discover how they imagine it, how they learned about it and how much of it still lives in their memories. What followed was a shared exploration. We realized that relearning our relationship with nature is something we all do together, one question at a time.

Beginning with what young people remember

To start, we asked students a simple question. If nature were your friend, how would you describe it? They wrote words like harmony, home, balance, living, interconnection, flora and fauna, ecosystem, community and unpredictable. Others chose more personal descriptions such as someone who forgives mistakes, mother-like, peaceful, my safe place and beautiful biodiversity.

These responses reminded us that children are not disconnected from nature. They are disconnected from the chance to express what nature means to them in their own words. This gave us a direction. Instead of offering definitions, we built the rest of the day around their memories, perceptions and questions.

Drawing landscapes before and after disturbance

Before the session began, we asked students to draw a landscape exactly as they imagined it. This first drawing was based on memory and what they believed a “natural” scene should look like. Many drew tall trees, a bright sun, flowing rivers, animals, birds, flowers and clean, open spaces. Their drawings reflected what they had absorbed from books or earlier lessons rather than what they had closely observed in their surroundings.

Only after the discussions ended did we ask them to draw the landscape again. By then, we had explored what a forest means to them, how ecosystems function and how landscapes are shaped by relationships between plants, animals, soil and people. We spoke about how nature is not a static picture but something that evolves, responds and changes depending on what belongs there and what does not.

Their second drawings reflected this shift in understanding. Some children added shrubs, grasses, insects and birds they had forgotten earlier. Others drew uneven canopies, fallen leaves, deadwood, shaded patches, water bodies and soil layers. A few showed how landscapes change when disturbed, drawing eroded soil, drying water streams, fewer animals or trees that looked weaker. Some even depicted invasive plants taking over native ones, a concept that made sense to them after an activity we ran on identifying species. 

These drawings were more honest. The students recognized what belonged and what felt missing once they had time to think, observe and connect ideas. 

One child spoke about a large tree near their home that stopped flowering. Another mentioned a small patch of ground where insects used to burrow but have slowly disappeared. Understanding landscapes doesn’t begin with terminology; it begins with attention and care.

Rethinking what looks green

The most revealing moment came during the activity on native and invasive species. We showed four plant samples. Two were invasive, Lantana and Senna spectabilis, and two were native trees, Moringa and Indian almond, both of which were present around the school.

When asked to choose the plants they believed were good for the environment, almost every child selected the invasive ones. They chose them because they looked beautiful, seemed stronger, appeared to grow faster or seemed easier to care for. These are the same qualities that allow invasive species to dominate landscapes.

When we explained that the plants they selected were invasive and harmful to the land, the room shifted not to silence but to a kind of collective awe. It clicked instantly. Children revisited their choices, comparing what they saw with what they had discussed earlier about belonging and ecological relationships. 

This moment of unlearning was not discouraging, it was energizing. The students were not embarrassed by their choices; they were excited to understand why they made them. This is the kind of curiosity that leads to deeper learning of our ecosystems.

Conversations that shaped the day

Throughout the session, the students asked questions that revealed how they naturally think about the environment. They spoke about soil quality, sunlight, pollinators, seasonal changes and why certain trees near their homes always attracted more birds. 

One student pointed out that forests in real life never look as neat as the ones they see in drawings or diagrams. They are messy, full of tangled branches, uneven soil, fallen leaves and unexpected colors. Another student wondered why birds consistently choose some trees over others, even when the trees look similar. These reflections helped us understand how children struggle to connect what they learn with what they experience. Our conversations showed that children are not passive learners; they are active observers.

Bringing understanding back to the soil

After spending the day reflecting on landscapes, relationships and belonging, we gathered to plant native trees. It felt natural to end the day by returning to the soil. The children were planting with a new understanding of why these trees mattered and how they fit into the landscape around them.

Some dug pits, some placed saplings and others carried water. As we worked, a community member joined us and shared stories about trees that once grew in the area, how people used their leaves and fruits, how certain birds relied on them and how the land has changed over time. 

These stories were simple but rooted in lived experience, and the children listened closely because they connected directly to what they had observed and discussed. The time planting felt like a continuation of everything we had learned together.

What the day taught us

By the end of the session, it was clear that children are not unaware; they are just missing spaces that allow their awareness to grow. They notice patterns, colors, sounds and changes that adults often overlook, but they rarely get the chance to explore these observations with depth. 

When we bring community stories, memory and curiosity into the same space, children begin to understand nature not as a subject but as something alive and connected to their lives.

Restoration is an intergenerational effort. Restoration helps children see native trees as part of a living story rather than as objects in a lesson. It encourages them to look at soil, water, insects and plants with curiosity and care. Most importantly, it reminds them that they cannot wait to become custodians one day; they can already shape the land through the questions they ask and the choices they make.

When children plant trees with intention, patience and understanding, the land responds. The land, when we care for it, feels held, noticed and cared for, just as we feel when the land cares for us.